FATE (Dougie 18)
by chesss
Summary: She is 16, he is 24. The 1st time they meet, it's in Spain. The 2nd and 3rd time, it is in London. Then, another time in Birmingham. Fate? Destiny? With one last chance encounter, they embark themselves into something they won't get out from unhurt. Can two people that everyone wants to see apart stay together? Is fate stronger than fear and prejudice?
1. Chapter 1

**CHAPTER 1 ****  
****Rats, coffee and Blink182**  


_The first time Dougie met Devon, there was a random TV show playing in Tom's hotel room, It was in Spanish so it was pointless to pay any attention to it. That day, it had been raining and the clouds had a threatening blackish color, almost screaming that they would let it all out before the end of the evening, that people should beware. _

_The first time Dougie met Devon, it was a Monday and it was a press day. Interviews after interviews, questions after questions, rain drop after rain drop. Same old, same old. But that day was not as repetitive as Dougie thought it would be. Because, on that rainy Monday where the clouds were all angry and that show was playing in Tom's hotel room, on the huge flat screen TV, Dougie met Devon. _

_For the first time. _

Dougie gets up that morning to the sound of Harry knocking at his door. Mumbling a pissed off ''yes, I'm up!'', he turns around in his bed, spreading an arm over the other pillow. Empty. Of course, they are in Spain, all their girlfriends are at home, in London. Well, all of the other guys' girlfriends. Because he doesn't have one. Not since two years ago, since Frankie broke up with him. He had gone over it now, even though it was pretty rough at the beginning. When you think you'll spend your life with someone, it's quite a bummer when you realize that that someone is selfish and manipulative, that you've been blind by your wish to discover true love. And, most of it, when you realize that that someone doesn't want you. But now it's over, and Dougie is glad it is, she has many qualities but too many flaws. Just like him. It's just that their flaws didn't match.

Dougie stretches on his bed, looking at the slight space that is left between the dark blue curtains of the bay window leading to the balcony. He remarks that the sky seems to be dark still... But it's... ten in the morning. Dougie gets up, walks to the window and opens the curtains, hiding his naked lower half with the fabric whilst looking outside. It's raining... It's going to be a long day. No shows today so nothing to look forward to at night, no party planned since they have to leave tomorrow morning, nothing exciting on the schedule. Only half a dozen interviews and a photoshoot for a Spanish magazine or something close to that. Dougie gets dressed, putting one of his Zukie tee on but, thinking that he has done enough pictures with this one, he takes it off and grabs a plain black tee-shirt to put under his gray hoodie with a blue pair of jeans and his shoes that Danny say look like slippers. He doesn't even look at himself in the mirror before putting his dirty clothes in his Billabong bag, closing it and leaving the room. First, because it's Harry's job to make mirrors crack of overuse and second, because he knows he will have to go under Melissa's hands later on. She will fix him, probably shave his slight beard, saying that he looks so young and cute with his clean face and arguing with him on whether she should cut his hair or not. They are not that long... just... falling in his face and curling behind his ears. Maybe I will let her cut his hair and shave him. Maybe.

Dougie knocks at Tom's door, whom opens seconds later, holding his cellphone with his shoulder, clothes in his hands. Tom always brings so much stuff when they travel... You would think that shirts are compact and all but when you bring twenty of them for a four days trip, it's not an economy of space, even when they have no sleeves. Danny nudges him in the shoulder when Dougie sits down on Tom's bed. He's writing a text message. And Tom is obviously talking to Giovanna since he can't stop smiling like a moron. Living with Gio and Tom is great but when you are trying to forget about love and all that crap, it's not that easy. Those two are like a walking-talking love movie. All the time! Dougie will soon get his own place, he should have done this ages ago, when he started to feel better. But he has to admit that living with Tom is quite cool too. They can jam at night and Gio is a great cook.

When Tom hangs up, they still have to wait for Harry to take a shower after is morning gym session. Dougie envies his commitment. Not his muscles though, those wouldn't look good on him. He has a small head, everybody can notice that and it will freak show worthy if his arms were bigger than his head... But, somehow, Dougie would like to find some pleasure in training and all. But he never seems to push it to the breaking point, the point where nothing matters and when you start to love what you hate. A forced Stockholm syndrome. Dougie smiles at the thought, earning a funny glare from Danny, who is still texting. Georgia and him talk for hours... or type for hours, it's more accurate at the moment.

It's only eleven o'clock in the morning but Devon has been up for a while. She had packed her stuff, fumbling around the messy apartment to find all her clothes and all. She had previously zipped her backpack but it was too easy to zip... that wasn't normal. That thing is almost ready to explode every time she has to put everything she owns in it so... easy zipping was a bad sigh. And, sure enough, things were missing. Once done retrieving all her belongings, she had closed her bag, pressing the zip forcefully to make it go up. Making sure she had all of her stuff, she had left the place, kissing goodbye to the nice couple who had let her borrow their couch for the last week.

Then, Devon headed to her audition, looking a bit clumsy with her big green military backpack, her dirty once-white handbag and her blond hair falling everywhere from her ponytail. She had changed in a hurry, soothing creases from her top and had pinning her number down her stomach. She was number thirty. And she wasn't the last girl in line... The English agency she was working with gave her the informations about this audition and a couple more here but, looking at, it didn't look like it was Devon's place at all. Or maybe it was, you never know. With that in mind, she had relaxed, listening to music on her Ipod whilst waiting for the people in charge to learn how to count up to thirty. When it was finally her turn, she had flew to the designated room, poured all her heart on the floor, let the persons in front of her see her entirely... She just danced.

-Come closer, had said the man with a very thick English accent when the music had fade. The file says the you were born in 1996. Is it right?

-Yes, sir, had replied Devon, knowing exactly where this was going.

-You dance incredibly, young lady, had noted an old woman, sitting next to the man. Especially for someone your age, it's truly remarkable. But we are looking for someone older. You are far too young and, probably, far too talented for this little production...

-We will call you if there is any change. Is the number you gave on your application is still alright?

Devon had nodded before leaving the audition room. Is the number still alright? "Idiot, I filled your sheet like two hours ago!" she had sigh within herself.

Getting changed, she had folded the paper with her dancer number and threw it in the trash. Devon had left the building, pulling her hood of top of her head when she had noticed that it was raining lightly. And there she is, carrying her massive bag on her back, walking on the streets, looking for the bus stop she saw when she arrived. She was leaving now to go back in England.

This little trip to Spain hadn't been so productive after all. Three auditions and nothing... Through the years, and especially through the last one where she had been to more and more auditions, she had heard it all. You're too blonde, you're not blonde enough, you're too artistic, you're too raw, you have too much technique... And most of all excuses: you're too young. She wasn't looking for a little role in the background of a stage, like a little mouse in The Nutcracker or something similar. She was looking for contracts. Leading to contacts and to more and more jobs... She had work a lot since she left home but it was a bit low right now and she could surely use some money. Yes, she was young, yes, she was good. Too good? Too good for being sixteen, she never thought it could be possible. But she heard that one too. The agency had talked to her about the possibility that she could do the try-outs for that group looking for dancers for their next videoclip. The Gangsters or something similar to that... She doesn't know them, she doesn't really know about any English music group anyway since she is originally from America but it could be interesting. It would be a challenge for sure. And Devon never says no to a little challenge. Or a big one for that matters.

Devon finally reaches the bus stop and, after trying to communicate with the driver, she just gives up, takes a seat, her bag residing on the one next to her and she relaxes. Enjoys the ride. Wherever she's going, she will see when she arrives. Couldn't be that far. Or if it is, it will just take her longer to come back from it, that's all. This escapade in Spain had at least those advantages: the sun, cute guys and beautiful sights (cute guys not entering in the beautiful sights category, they deserve one for themselves, thank you very much). In the bus, there is a couple of old ladies lurking her, talking so fast that Devon wonders if their tongue won't tie themselves into knots for moving that fast in toothless mouths... There is also a man with a suitcase sitting at the front but he gets out really soon. There also is a woman reading and another man talking to the phone. And a teen couple kissing in the back of the bus, on the last seat. Devon can't help but stare a them. Kissing like that, it's kind of beautiful. And with the bus that is moving and catching the bumps of the pavement, they move around, trying to keep their lips together at all cost. It's real. Beautiful and real at the same time, that makes it even more powerful. Devon turns her head to the front of the bus again, towards the too-fast-talking ladies. When you move around like she does, you don't have time for love. Nobody wants to cope with a girlfriend not knowing where she will go or be the next week or so anyway. But, to be honest, she misses contact a bit. You always know people for a short time when you travel. Doesn't mean that you don't see their very nature though. More than often, people you meet for a brief moment are those you know the most, those who let you enter deep in them, just because they know they will never see you again.

After a couple of hours, the bus stops at its terminus and Devon gets out, trying to find someone who speaks English or, at least, that will understand her gibberish in Spanish. She would kind of like to know where she is...

**

Signing some more autographs in the outside of the radio station, Dougie tries to smile to everyone, then climbs in the van, right next to Harry, who pats his thigh. Dougie leans back on his seat and enjoys the view through the window. They will be gone by tomorrow and who knows when they will come back here...

-I'm hungry, he says out of the blue.

-But you just ate, like an hour ago, laughs Tom from behind him.

-A bag of nuts doesn't count as a full meal.

-I agree, but the sandwich and the chips you had with it do.

-Stop moaning, smirks Dougie. It won't change the fact that I'm starving.

-I'm not moaning, replies Tom, smacking him behind the head.

-Moaning... says Danny seductively and trying to climb over Tom's lap.

-Fuck off, Dan!

Dougie turns his attention to the window again, listening to the two idiots behind him argue. Tommy shakes his head, like if he was annoyed but a slight smile sustains on his lips, sign that he doesn't really mind them fooling around. Anyway, Tom, Harry, Danny and him are far from being real adults and all... not until they at least reach the tender age of ten years old... Dougie smiles to himself at his stupid thought and avoid another smack he saw coming in the window.

-Sir, says their guide and translator from the front seat, I know a place not too far from the hotel where they have an amazing coffee and delightful pastries.

-You see? smiles Dougie to the other guys, who had stop fighting to listen to the man. Delightful pastries... Thanks, Paolo.

-No worries, sir.

They returns to the quiet talking that was on before Dougie talked. Harry is speaking to Izzie on the phone, or trying to. The line seems to be rubbish, seeing how he shakes his phone every two seconds... Does he think that will solve the connection problem? Dougie isn't quite sure about that one... The van gets out of the highway and to smaller streets when people are walking peacefully, shopping or something with umbrellas on their sides. They get stuck by a train getting out of a railway station and then bus various buses entering in a terminus, blocking the road again.

The vehicle finally stops in front of a small coffee shop. There is some tables outside and a sign hanging right above the door.

-Destino, reads Dougie, looking at the driver.

-It means **Fate**, smiles the man. Or destiny if you prefer.

-Hurry up... grumbles Harry, shoving his phone to the empty seat in front of him. If you don't, your destiny will be cut short, Doug.

-Who's moaning now? cheekily asks the young man, opening the sliding door and standing under the threatening sky.

**

At the end of the day, Devon was sat in a little café near the train station where she had a ticket held for the next morning. She was about three hours away from it earlier on but with a little walking and a lot of pretty smile to car drivers, she managed to get to the railway station before night time. And without getting soaked up by the rain. She takes a sip of her coffee and looks outside. The sky is so dark, it's going to be mad later... With a pout, she suddenly regrets not taking an hostel room for tonight or something... She had planned to walk all night or to doze off on a bench waiting for her four AM departure but, with the so amazing and peachy temperature, it's a little less tempting all of a sudden. But, hey, you gotta do what you gotta do...

Turning around on her seat, she advises the toilets right at the end of a corridor. She fumbles into her bag. She needs to change clothes. Most likely, she won't be able to take a shower until she arrives to London. And making people faint because she smells like yack shit is not really the kind of things she's into. Devon walks to the counter and asks the guy near the cash if he can keep an eye on her things for a moment. She smiles. He says yes. It works every time, thinks Devon as she makes her way to the bathroom with spare clothes, dental paste, antiperspirant and a comb. Time to try and transform into a human. Or at least, look like a civilized individual. Not like a weirdo carrying an ugly greenish thing on its back all the time. Which is what she is anyway.

Devon enters a toilet booth and takes off her jeans and cami, putting on some black sports pants and a shirt she found in that hostel she was in in Wales a month ago. She thought it was kind of cool and the guy at the reception said it had been in the lost object bin for a couple of weeks now, that she could take it. And unknown brand to her, all grey with a man on the front looking like a cartoon character, saying Zukie is go. Devon likes that shirt a lot, cool and yet so comfy... she slides her flip flops back in her feet and tries to wash herself a little. She's still a girl after all, even though she probably would be able to pin a guy down to the ground if he managed to touch her when not allowed. Ok, maybe not but her ego likes to think she could. Devon combs her hair, letting them fall on her shoulders and sliding an elastic on her wrist. Maybe she should cut them a bit? They are falling down to her armpit, it's getting harder and harder to do a proper bun when she has to do ballet rehearsals and all. Some of the people running those classes and auditions are very conservative, better not displease them with outrageous hairdo such as ponytails or braids. God, what an abomination!

Devon smiles to herself in the mirror. Her grey eyes are a little bit have little shadows under them but that's to be expected when you sleep five nights in a row on a couch that seems to have been made of steel... She brushes her teeth with her index, putting some toothpaste on it and rubbing it inside her mouth. After loosing a dozen of toothbrushes, she figured that it was simpler that way. You never lose a finger, right?

-Well, I hope I'll never lose one, she says to herself.

She washes her arms and her stomach briefly with only water, puts on antiperspirant and looks at herself. She is cute, she knows it. But she doesn't really know how to use that thought. Except for her smile. That seems to be the only thing that she knows will work almost instantly. For the rest, the body, the eyes, the hair, she seems to forget that she can use those assets to win some points... Devon is not vain, she just dances, wishing it will be enough. Sometimes it is, sometimes it's not. That's the way it goes. She grabs her jeans that have fallen to the floor and gets out of the bathroom.

Walking in the slight corridor separating the tables and booths from the counter and the cash where she's heading to thank the cashier, she drops her comb. She bends over to take it back, then gets up, turning around quickly on her feet. She's a ballerina, she can turn pretty fast, believe me.

_That's when it happens._

They bump into each other. Dougie and Devon. Well, she bumps into him. She hits his side, his arm and hand, the one he was holding his coffee in. He lets it go as a reflex and it spills all over the counter and on the floor. Dougie takes a step back, not wanting to get warm coffee all over him.

-Sorry, sorry, says Devon, turning around again to rests her stuff on the closest table. Sorry! Uhm... Lo... Lo siento?

-Sorry works better with me, replies Dougie, looking alternatively at the blonde girl next to him and at his so promising coffee spread all over the place now.

Hastily, Devon takes hold of some napkins from the metallic rack near the cash and starts to clean the mess she has made. She kneels to the floor, trying to mop the coffee whilst the cashier cleans the counter top with a towel. The customers that have been watching have now return to their previous activities. Dougie, not wanting her to clean everything by herself, takes the towel the guy just rinse and kneels to finish cleaning the floor.

-Will work better with this, he says, showing the towel to Devon.

-Probably. No, not probably. Assuredly.

She gets up, looking around to find a trash where to put the coffee soaked papers. They produce a quite loud and juicy sound when they fall against the plastic bag of the trash. She wants to stoke her hands on her pants to clean them a little but, just remembering she just got changed, she freezes, looking at her hands. For once, it would be nice if she stayed clean for at least an hour,

-Here, says the guy, handling her napkins.

-Thanks, she smiles to Dougie.

-Is it... yours? he asks, picking up then man antiperspirant tube that must have fallen to the floor and rolled next to them.

-Uhm... yeah. Don't ask, she adds when she notices a smile climbing on his lips.

Dougie grins widens. She's kind of cute. Ok, not kind of, she's bloody cute. Hot wouldn't fit really, she looks too innocent to be called hot. He frowns when he advises her tee-shirt. A Zukie man tee. Would have been quite weird if he had put on his own this morning, wouldn't it? Does she know who he is?

-Like your tee, he says, testing her.

-Thanks, she smiles. I love it. Don't know where it's from though, I found it.

Dougie nods. She doesn't know him. At all. It's quite funny that she is standing there, talking to one of the owner of that brand she has on her without even knowing it. So... she doesn't know McFly either? Quite refreshing. He brushes his fringe from his eyes (nop... no hair cut yet... but a shave, he gave Melissa that satisfaction) and Devon tries not to look too much. He has a face that... a face that you rarely see. So perfect and so unique, with beautiful eyes.

-Let me get you another coffee, she says, taking her jeans from the table and sliding an hand through the pockets to find some money.

-That's fine, don't worry about it...

-I drop it, I pay it, that's in my rule book, winks Devon, turning to the cashier. I'll have... uhm... what did you ordered?

-Black, he says.

-Conventional... she grins at him. I would say boring but my daddy raised me well.

Dougie laughs, unzipping his hoodie a little. She looks at him sideways and smiles again. She slides money on the now clean counter.

-I'm Dougie, he tells, holding up a hand.

-Dougie? she chuckles.

-What? he frowns, thinking that maybe she remembers him now.

-Isn't it a dog name or something?

-Why? he laughs again. Did you once had a dog named Dougie?

-No. I just had a rat when I was little. He was molting his hair all over but... anyway. He was called Blink.

-Blink? smiles Dougie. Did he blink... blank... blunk... ah whatever...

Devon laughs softy at his effort to find the right verb tense. She wouldn't know the answer anyway, she left school almost two years ago and is still trying to finish some classes with the help of papers and books she shoves in the bottom of her backpack and pretends to remember about every now and then. She takes hold of the coffee she has been given and cautiously handles it to Dougie. Devon lifts her eyes from the take away cup to meet the stranger's ones. He's smiling and she notices that his eyes narrow when he does so. They are still astonishing though. Man, that guy is good-looking...

-Take it, she says, before I have another chance at soiling your pants.

He chortles, taking the cup from her hands, his fingers sliding on top of hers when he uses his other hand to hold the lid in place.

-You know what I mean, continues Dougie. About that blinking thing. I though there ware like only fishes and snakes that didn't blink.

-Oh, it wasn't about that! laughs Devon, raising a hand. I was just really into Blink-182 at the time and I though... What?

-Blink-182? Really?

-What? she asks with a defiant look. I'm too cute to like Blink or what?

-Cute, definitely, cracks up Dougie. But I just... would have pick you to be more of a... I don't know... classical music fan or whatever. But you had a rat so that cuts off all my theories, I guess.

-Oh and you're such a rebel, right? grins Devon, hands on her hips. And I bet you have cats at home! Or, no! A hamster! Called Fluffy.

Dougie laughs loudly, holding his coffee in one hand and resting the other one on the counter. Who is that girl? She's funny. And outgoing. It's the first time he engages a conversation that quickly with someone. She makes it quite easy to be honest.

-I have lizards, he replies with an arrogant look that makes her smile. And they smell and force me to keep dead mouses in my freezer. What do you say about that?

-I...

-Doug! shouts someone from the door. Jeez... are you grinding the coffee beans one by one?

-Coming! he shouts back to Danny, turning around to look at the girl.

She has her back on him and is gathering her belongings from the table. Dougie can't help but take a quick pick at her body. Man... ouf... He grabs the paper bags containing his pastries (and one for grumpy Harry that Tom will probably end up eating) and that's when his eyes met Devon's again.

-Was nice talking to you uhm... What's your name?

-Does it really matter? she asks playfully. We'll plausibly never see each other again.

-True, he agrees.

-Was nice talking to you, lizard freak, she says, turning heels to reach a table further in the café.

Dougie smiles to himself and walks to the door, which Danny is holding open for him, looking from over his shoulder to see the girl.

-Who is that chick? he demands. She's hot!

Hot? Does that really applies to her finally? Dougie looks back in the café through the front windows and advises her lifting a huge and apparently heavy green backpack, opening it to shove her jeans she just roll into it. Hot? Dougie doesn't know. But damn, that girl was something...


	2. Chapter 2

CHAPTER 2

Muffin the Snail

_The second time Dougie met Devon, it was a Thursday and the sky was clear. Devon was thanking whoever you want for that. It had been raining for the past three days and, when you mostly walk from places to places, rain is not a thing you want to carry around. That day, Dougie was shopping and Devon was heading to her friend Pinelopi's apartment because, supposedly, she had great news for her. For both of them. Them, like in Devon and Pinelopi, not like in Dougie and Devon. There is no them, no us, no they when it comes to those two. Not yet. It had been more than two weeks since Devon met Dougie. Both had fallen in the back of the other's mind, taking the shape of a pleasant memory, like a thing you tell at a dinner with friends, smiling at the thought of it but not really thinking about it the rest of the time._

_But the memory was about to come back. _

For the first couple of days, Dougie had though about the no-name girl quite a few times. Mostly because of her attitude. And for the way she looked. She was so... Dougie didn't have a word to describe her so he just let it go. He meets hundreds, thousands of people each year, there was nothing to make a fuss about. She was just... She was kind of special. Like if she was living in a ten minute time frame. No past, no future. The way she talked to him, like if she didn't give a shit about what he thought about her... that was refreshing. And so rare to him. Maybe that's why she was on his mind every now and then for the next two days. And, bloody hell, she was adorably cute... Danny had describe _what _was taking so long in the café to the other guys, using graphic terms that Dougie didn't adjudge at the time. Hot, sexy, fuckable... that didn't seem to be things Dougie would say about her. But still, he knew Danny was kind of right.

What Dougie also knew is that that girl made him talk. And she was a talker, that's for sure! Again, his feeling that she didn't care about appearances was well demonstrated by that quality of hers. She told him random things, managing to get personal stuff out of his mouth without even trying to it seems. And she told him about herself like if it was nothing, like if she used to do that all the time. Well, she probably did. It was a real weird meeting, totally unfortunate and yet so pleasant. But now, it was over and, with no bitter feeling, Dougie was back to his usual life: press, shows and all...

When he gets down that morning, Dougie is greeted by Giovanna. She shouts from her office located at the front of the house. Surely, she heard him go down the stairs. Dougie doesn't wonder where is Tom; he's used to him going places all the time, without giving him any notice. He doesn't own Dougie anything. In fact, Dougie feels like he's the one who own his bandmate something. Like an immense truck load of gratitude for taking him in when he had no place to go after his break up. For talking to him, listening to him and trying to understand how he felt even though he never experienced anything like it. And it was him who suggested the rehab center when he felt that his words were not enough anymore. Like Dougie had said to press, it was the best move he ever made. He learned to stay by himself, to sort out issues that he had. Not to see any girl as the only thing that could make him feel happy. You're happy on your own before being happy with someone else. And Dougie had learn in rehab how to be happy alone. September is kicking in and it was almost two years back... and still no girlfriend. He doesn't really want one. Or maybe he does but not at any cost. And he hasn't find anyone that could even be remotely close to make his heart beat faster.

Tom walks in the kitchen, entering by the sliding door leading to the backyard. He's a bit sweaty, his uncombed hair falling in his face. He smiles at Dougie, taking off his running shoes.

-Hey, Butty!

-Hey... Do we have something on the planning today? I forgot.

-You always forget...

-Thank you, mum, sighs Dougie, putting two slices of bread in the toaster. Do we?

-No, baby, we don't? Why? You have something planned?

As Dougie is about to reply that he intends to masturbate all day (just to make Tom rolls his eyes at him... and when what he really wants to do is work on a song he started and sleep a bit more), the phone rings. Tom gets up from the stool he just sat on and takes the phone. He knows Dougie won't take it. It could be in his pants and Dougie would still let it ring. So annoying... The bassist grabs a jumping toast when it flies up and then the other, turning to Tom with a childish smile, only to notice that he has his back on him, looking at the caller ID. He always does that! And even when he doesn't want to talk to the person who's calling, he will take the line anyway... What's the point of looking if you'll answer anyway?

-Hey, Dan! greets Tom. What's up? Wait... he's right there... I don't know... Wait a sec... It's for you, Doug.

-Danny? asks Dougie, clutching the phone between his shoulder and his ear whilst pouring some coffee in a random Disney cup.

-The one and only, laughs the man at the other end. I tried your cell but I figured you didn't had it on you so... Listen, I need new boots and some trousers. You wanna go with me?

-Today?

-Well, yeah... we are living for Japan tomorrow, remember?

-I remember, lies Dougie, frowning.

-You always forget that stuff!

-Just because I have three daddys to remember for me. At what time do you want to take off?

-I dunno, replies Danny and Dougie stretches his neck, holding the phone against his ear as he hears a door opening.

He rolls his eyes and hang up the phone without any notice. Danny always does that. I mean, it's not because you live like half a block away that you should pop in unannounced all the time, right? That doesn't seems to bother neither Gio, who says hi to him when he knocks on the wall she is behind, or Tom, who acknowledges him with a movement of the chin.

-I'm ready when you are, mate, says Danny, sitting down on a stool and stealing one of Dougie's toast.

-Alright, give me 30 minutes, Dougie says when Danny steals a toast from him. I'll go take a shower.

Danny and Tom's voice follow Dougie as he walks upstairs. He would have prefered to stay home today...

-How long could this street be? grunts Devon to herself, adjusting the braids of her bag on her back.

She has been walking for almost an hour, following the indications Pinelopi gave her on the phone earlier. The end of the street... well... this street never ends! Devon advises a bench on the opposite pavement and decides to take a little break. Her back is aching a little. But the perspective of sleeping in a real bed tonight is making Devon smile anyway. Doesn't matter how free spirited she is and how much of a independent person she is, a good bed is always a way to make her fall into submission. A soft mattress... warmth... silence... All the things Devon is missing from home. Talking of home, it's the fifth today... she should call her father, she will do so at Penny's house, might cost less than at a pay phone.

Devon closes her eyes and lets her head fall backwards, stretching her neck. Offering her face to the sun. Peace... Well, almost. OK, not really... She wonders what Penny has to tell her, she looked over excited. That is quite an understatement to be honest. She was freaking out. Devon loves Penny. They met at the agency and worked together twice already. She is so nice and beautiful, and so, so talented. Almost every time Devon was close to London or in it, she would crash at her place.

Someone throwing something in the trash near the bench where Devon is sat makes her open her eyes. It smells of coffee. She can't help but smile. Every now and then, thinking about that evening in Spain, she smiles to herself, remembering the face of the stranger. Dougie had such honest eyes and a sense of repartee that made him stand apart from the other guys she meets on the road. His face had popped in her mind quite a few times, to her biggest surprise. She never had been shy to talk to strangers and all but him... that was a weird talk... Too personal and yet really distant. And, obviously, she never talked about Blink or mess with people that much... but, again, his eyes were kind of forcing her into talking without her even trying to restrain the words that were coming out of her mouth. That was a good thing, she guessed, rethinking about it on the way back in England, because it was a funny talk. She is kind of glad she met that guy, even if it was for less than 15 minutes. That's what voyages are for: to built up sweet memories like that, the kind you can never predict.

Devon snaps out of her reverie again when her cellphone in the pocket of her jeans vibrates. Please let it be the agency... No, it's Pinelopi.

-I'm coming, says Devon, flipping it open.

-Hurry up! You'll like that!

-Tell it to me already!

-No way! laughs her friend. Not on the phone, I want to see your face!

-Ah come on! pleads Devon, sliding the straps of her backpack through both of her arms before getting up. I'll do a remake of my face for you later, I promise!

-No, big baby!

-Look who's talking! chuckles Devon, resuming her walking and then turning around, realizing she was walking the wrong way. You're all secretive and giggly, you, my friend.

-Bring your perfect arse here and you'll know! Where are you?

-Close. I think...

-Take the tube!

-I'm close! repeats Devon. I'm keeping the tiny amount of money I have left, alright?

-Take the tube! The three pounds you spend will be worth it!

Devon rolls her eyes, half-smiling and hangs up. She looks down to slide her phone back in her skinny jeans but drops it on the concrete. After cheeking if it is alright, she stops walking a second to put it back properly.

That's when they collide again.

Dougie is talking to Danny, walking backwards and Devon's eyes are on her pocket. Dougie hears Danny say ''take care'' but his mind doesn't register until his body has made another step back. He hits Devon roughly, making her stumble backwards. With the weight on her back, she loose balance (something that rarely happens, you can imagine) and she falls on her bum, the shock greatly absorbs by her backpack.

-Woh, says Dougie, turning around after feeling the resistance on his back. Sorry, mate. I...

He stops talking when he advises the girl almost sitting on the ground in front of him, taking the braids of her bag off her shoulders. Why those blond hair seem familiar to him? He crooks his head on the side and, when the girl lifts her face, sending her hair back, Dougie frowns. He saw that face before. And the frown he sees on the girl's forehead tells that she is probably thinking the same thing. Devon bites her lip, bum still on the concrete, looking up at the man standing there. She barely remembers why she is in that position, an only thought is filling her mind: where have I seen that dude? And suddenly, she remembers, a smile climbs on her lips. Dougie recognizes her smile instantly. Mystery girl. Funny girl. Weird girl. Whatever you want to call erh. He smirks at her, mirroring her own expression, looking up at him like if it was nothing that she was sitting on the ground, people walking around them.

-You're going to let her there, idiot? asks Danny, oblivious to the recognition.

-No. Of course not.

Dougie holds out a hand to help her get up. Her fingers are warm... She has small hands, but with long fingers. Very gracious hands. It's nice, for once, to see someone having more feminine hands than him, thinks Dougie, keeping it in his a second longer than necessary. She brushes her clothes with both hands, bending over to bring her huge bag closer and then smiles to Dougie again. Funny seeing him there.. She knew he was from England because of his accent but... England is fucking big! So... anyway, she is quite happy to see him. Looking as gorgeous as the last time, with the same grey hoodie on and a black beanie on his head. A lock of dirty blond hair is falling on his forehead. Hot, hot, hot...

-You good? he asks finally.

-Yeah... You?

Awkward. When you think you'll never meet someone again and then it happens a second time, it's like it doesn't feel quite right. Especially when you spent only fifteen amazing minutes with the other. Devon frowns, sliding her hands in her pockets, meeting her cellphone with her fingers. Did she just thought about the word ''amazing''?

-Danny, says the guy next to Dougie, offering his hand to shake and she does so.

She licks the corner of her lips, taking a quick peek at Dougie from the corner of his eyes. The unwieldy moment is gone now. It's back to the playful talking. Dougie's grin is wide, she knows what he's waiting for. And she won't give it to him. She lets go of Danny's hand and can't help but notice how white and straight Dougie's teeth are. His parents must be dentists or something... But most of it, his mouth is just... slightly pink lips and all. And an happy smile that seems to illuminate his whole face.

-You won't tell me your name, right? grins Dougie again.

-I don't think so. You just pushed me to the ground. You're a dangerous man.

-And you tried to scald me last time. It's just fair revenge.

-I see... are we even now?

-Yes, he nods. You know, I think it's because your name is way worse than a dog's name, that you don't want to tell me what it is!

-Maybe, she laughs.

-What are you talking about? frowns Danny, looking at Dougie with an dumbfounded look.

-Never mind... Why don't you wait in the car, Dan? I'm coming in a second.

-Alright, laughs the other man, walking away with bags in his hands. But you know that privacy in the middle of the street is kind of impossible, don't ya?

-That was rude, says Devon, hands on her hips when Danny is nearly out of view.

-He stole my breakfast this morning! replies Dougie as if it is a great felony or something.

-What. A. Baby. smirks Devon again, crossing her arms on her chest.

Dougie can't help but notice the small cleavage there is there. Shown by the v-neck yellow shirt she is wearing. She doesn't seem to have boobs at all. Well, little bumps, that's all. Dougie snaps back from his dirty thoughts and tries to find something to answer to that

-And you're so mature anyway, he jokes, looking right into her eyes, not wanting to tell me your name! I bet it's some crazy and weird name like you American give to your kids... Like Cookie of Muffin!

-Muffin? laughs Devon, raising her eyebrows.

-I heard that in a soap.

-My grand-mother listens to soap. You two would make a perfect pair...

-Ah, shut up, says Dougie playfully, waving in the air.

Devon's laughs is loud and cheery. She makes a pout, slightly stroking his forearm with her hand, as to excuse herself and Dougie chuckles. Is she always like that? Funny and happy? Her smile is just like a big, bright sun, he can't help but respond to it.

-You're backpacking? asks Dougie, pointing her big army bag.

-Yeah, mostly through England. With my home on my back.

-Like a snail, states Dougie.

-Muffin, the snail? proposes Devon and Dougie laughs, taking his beanie off, revealing his hair.

-I like that.

They stare a little to each other with a smile, taking really conscience of the chemistry that is hanging there between them, like a transparent veil of connivance, isolating them. Dougie is holding a bag in his hand and Devon's backpack is pressed against her tight. They don't really notice people walking around them, like they didn't acknowledge other customers coming and going in the café that other time either.

-So... starts Devon, rocking back and forth on her feet. Bought something gross for your lizards?

-No. Just trainers. But that reminds me that I have to go to the pet shop and get some worms for one of them.

-Worms? Didn't know they ate that kind of stuff.

-Well... I live with my mate Tom and, him and his fiancé don't want me to put dead mice in their freezer so...

-Why? If they are in a bag or something...

-Thank you, says Dougie, resting a hand on her shoulder for a quick second. That's exactly what I said but Gio didn't want to hear it so... I tried to tell her that it's wasn't as bad as the time I left a dead lizard in the freezer because I didn't have time to bury him but I think that didn't help my case.

Devon laughs with him and then stops, frowning. That guy is... He looks hot, he looks confident... but still... he seems shy and secretive. It's adorable.

-What? asks Dougie, brushing his hair. Did I gross you out?

-Nah... shrugs Devon. I put my hand in a horse like two years ago. THAT was gross.

-What? repeats Dougie, smiling ever so widely.

-My family owns a farm, you see, she chuckles. And there was Chilly, a mare I named after the Red Hot Chilly Peppers, and she was having a baby and it was stuck so...

-So you put your hand... in her?

-I saved the foal.

-You're a fucking hero.

-I am.

-Did you wash your hands since?

Devon burst out in laughter, eyes sparkling when she looks at him. Dougie is kind of proud of his joke. His eyes are all small in his face because he's laughing too much and people are turning around to look at them. But they couldn't care less. Devon wipes a tear from her eyes as her phone vibrates in her pocket. Taking it out, she sees a text from Pinelopi: ''Where the Hell are you?'' She looks up to Dougie, putting her phone back in her pocket.

-I have to go, she says, taking her backpack from the ground. Was really nice seeing you again.

-Yeah, it was, smiles Dougie, looking at her.

She nods and bypasses him to pursue her walk to some place Dougie doesn't know of. He walks to Danny's car who greets him with a ''and?''. Dougie smiles and waves away when Danny asks him if he took her phone number because, Dougie states, ''it's not like he would never see her again''.

-That's what you said last time, shrugs Danny, turning the ignition on.


End file.
